


The Force of the Blade

by jennysfant



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cain!Dean, Dark Dean Winchester, Dean violently slaughters a bunch of demons, Mark of Cain, Scared Crowley, Worried Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-20
Updated: 2014-03-20
Packaged: 2018-01-16 09:59:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1343356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennysfant/pseuds/jennysfant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean, Sam and Crowley get attacked by a bunch of demons that Abaddon sent. Dean uses the First Blade to kill them and find it difficult to stop.</p><p>It explores the effects of the blade/mark.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Force of the Blade

“You’ve got no other choice,” Crowley said, and he was right. Him, Dean and Sam were standing on a field, surrounded by demons. They guessed that Abaddon had sent them, but they didn’t understand why. This mindless need for bloodshed was extreme even for her. She usually plotted and she was usually present when there would be action. Was it simply to show them how many demons were on her side now? Or maybe she had found out about the blade and wanted to see if they knew how to use it?

“Come on, take it,” Crowley said as he offered the First Blade. The demons closing in on them were excited, and they looked ready to pounce.

“Crowley’s right,” Sam admitted. “We’ve really got no other choice.”

Dean’s heart was beating fast. He really didn’t want to have to use the blade. He was scared of the effect it had on him. The way it consumed him, changed him and twisted his insides. Yet he knew that he had to protect his little brother. He took the blade.

Instantly, the mark on his arm burnt. It was like a poison slithering in his veins, spreading its savagery to his muscles and mind. He looked up and saw the demons. A smile danced around his lips.

“Dean?” Sam asked worriedly, but Dean didn’t listen. He hardly even cared.

The blade led him through the slaughter. With every step there was a new body to tear apart, and with every step he avoided getting wounded himself. It was so easy, like letting go of all thought and all emotion except the bloodlust. His vision had changed to one that was focused only on necks, hearts and veins. One by one they fell down in pieces as all the wrath of the world hailed down upon them.

They had all heard of the Winchesters. The brothers were rumored to be extraordinary, sure, but they were still only _human_. Abaddon had sent almost a hundred of them to take down two _humans_. Yet the thing that moved with ferocious grace, reaping them in a perverse harvest; that could not be human. Its eyes petrified them with their unearthly fires before they died, and its arm was lit up horribly. It killed so quickly that most of them only had time to think “ _But he’s_ human” before falling down.

Sam saw his brother killing the demons, and it scared him. He’d never seen Dean so mindless, so cold, as he was now. He sliced and sliced, blood squirting from headless bodies, until all that was left was an ocean of corpses. Then Dean turned to him.

Crowley actually took a step back upon seeing the Winchester facing them. He usually acted as though nothing fazed him (he tried to, anyway) but this was terrifying. There was something in the eyes, something more horrifying than the deepest pits of hell had ever managed to produce. And since Dean would never hurt his brother, Crowley could only assume that he was moving towards them to end _him_.

“Please,” Crowley begged, but Dean continued as though he hadn’t heard. Crowley took a few more steps back. Was this it? They didn’t need him anymore, after all. He could leave his body before dying but he really didn’t want to. Would he even make it?

Sam didn’t care if Crowley died, but he was worried that Dean wouldn’t stop there. What did that blade do to him? At least when Sam drank demon blood he had control over who he killed, but he was unsure whether it was the same with Dean. He didn’t even look human anymore.

“Dean!” Sam called. “Stop, you’ve killed them all, you need to stop!”

Dean slowed down, but he didn’t stop.

“Dean!” Sam shouted.

He finally heard. He knew he needed to drop the blade. He needed to let go off its power and promises. His job was done. He should let go.

But as he stood there, he found it was easier said than done. The blade felt as though it was attached to him. Dropping it would be like dropping a part of him. It was woven into his arm like the roots of a tree, and it begged to be used. But as Sam screamed, Dean remembered all the other times Sam had screamed. His need to care for his little brother was a big part of who he was; it was what had kept him going most of his life. Dean let those feelings wash over him, rinsing him of violence. In a moment of will, he dropped the blade. It fell down with a small thud; when no longer a tool of destruction it was only old bones and teeth.

Yet as Dean’s focus returned to reality, a small voice in his head still whispered:

“ _Pick it up_.”


End file.
